


Wide Awake and Dreaming

by MizJoely



Series: SherlollyPrompts [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-The Final Problem, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9790550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: Another take on the aftermath of The Call.





	

**Author's Note:**

> no-tragedy on tumblr requested a drabble about insomnia, and of COURSE it turned into a semi-angsty post-TFP story.

Sleeping was definitely off the menu for the rest of the night. The two hours she’d spent tossing and turning had made THAT fact more than abundantly clear. With a sigh, Molly sat up, clicked on her bedside light...and screeched.

“Sherlock!” she gasped out once she recognized the figure standing in her bedroom doorway. “What the hell--!”

“Sorry,” he said, not moving any closer. Just standing there, swaying a bit on his feet. 

As she got a good look at him, Molly’s angry protests died in her throat. Throwing off the covers, she swung her legs over the side and hurried to him. “What happened? Does this have something to do with the ‘experiment’ you called me about earlier?”

He just nodded, and she could see the lines of exhaustion on his face. “It’s a long story,” he said, his voice hoarse, as if he’d been doing a lot of talking - or shouting. “But I wanted to explain right away. To try and...fix things. If I can.” He lifted a hand in a vague gesture, and Molly gasped at the sight of his bruised and swollen fingers.

“Sherlock! What the hell happened?” She helped him out of his coat and guided him to her bed, sitting him on the side and kneeling down to help him off with his shoes. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and let it fall onto the bed; Molly picked it up and laid it across the back of her vanity chair, then urged him to lie down. She covered him with the duvet, then climbed into bed next to him.

They’d done this dozens of times, ever since his faked death, but even that traumatic event felt like nothing compared to the story he proceeded to tell her. A secret sister, altered memories, a childhood tragedy, mind control like something out of a James Bond movie...and the usual murder, mayhem and mania that went along with so many of his cases.

She listened quietly to the whole story, as Sherlock’s voice became hoarser and hoarser, only getting up once to bring him a glass of water, which he gulped down thirstily. When he finished she tried to think of something to say, something to show here horror, her compassion, her love, but all she could manage was, “It really does sound exactly like the sort of thing I would buy for myself, that coffin. Too bad you smashed it; might have saved myself a few thousand pounds.”

He stared at her; she bit her lip and cursed her awkward, horrible sense of humor...and then grinned as he started laughing. He laughed as if it were the funniest joke he’d ever heard, and when he finally wound down, wiping the tears from his eyes, he pulled her close and kissed her. On the lips. “I meant it, you know. I didn’t know I meant it until you made me say it, but I did mean it. I love you.”

“I meant it too,” she replied, all traces of humor gone as she met his gaze. “It’s true, it’s always been true. I love you. I guess the only question is, where do we go from here?”

“To sleep, I hope,” he replied with a jaw-cracking yawn. He snuggled her closer, his head on her chest, and she wrapped her arms around him. “And then to the nearest registry. I’m sure Mycroft can get a license rushed through for us.”

“You want to get married? Right away?” Molly was somewhat taken aback, but it didn’t stop her fingers carding through his tangled curls. “Isn’t that rushing things? Don’t you want to take your time, really process your emotions, make sure…”

“Molly,” he cut her off impatiently, lifting his head just enough to give her a slight scowl, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. And it’s hardly rushing things when we’ve known each other for seven years, and been in love with each other just about that long. And yes, I have been, it wasn’t just you all this time. You’re just the one that was strong enough to admit it. Now,” he added, nestling his head beneath her chin, “I really am exhausted. I promise we can talk about in the morning, if I have any voice left. Can that be enough for now?”

“Of course,” she replied, bending down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Good-night, Sherlock.” She hesitated only a moment before adding softly, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbled, and then his breathing evened out, the tension in his body eased, and she knew he was asleep.

Insomnia, however, had settled in for a long stay with her, but at least now she had a lot to think about during her sleepless night...and the man she loved in her arms.

All in all, she concluded, she’d had worse days.


End file.
